Confessions of a Nymphomaniac Spy
by TakeItTo22
Summary: The unseen scenes of All the Roads That Lead to You Are Winding through the eyes of a redheaded nymphomaniac.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** So this idea came to me while I was writing Chapter 7 (To: Sarah...Love: Chuck) of **All the Roads That Lead to You Are Winding **(whew! That is a long title!). I was in the process of writing out a scene where Chuck and Carina were planning out a mission, and I thought it would come out better through Carina's POV.

Thanks goes out to **mxpw**, as usual, for his beta and for his approval of how I write Carina. And thanks to you, the readers for choosing to click this story. I hope you guys like it. If you do, leave a review. If you don't, leave a review! :)

**A word from mxpw**: Carina is hot. That is all.In all seriousness... My name is **mxpw **and I approve this Carina. She's awesome and funny and hot and damn entertaining. This is how Carina should be written. Oh yeah, plus she's hot. Wait, I already mentioned that? Well, it bears repeating. **Tally **makes me rethink how I write Carina in **DA**, that's how entertained I am by her in this story.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Chuck

* * *

It's both a blessing and a curse, this condition I have. You see, there are a lot of things that turn me on. Yeah, I'm not going to sugarcoat it, I'm a nymphomaniac. After I completed my training at the Farm, my boss wanted me to see a therapist. They said that my behavior was unhealthy. I don't see it that way. I don't know why people are telling me that _I_ have problems. Some people like to run or eat chocolate to relieve stress—I like to have sex. I don't see anyone giving runners or chocolate lovers any shit about what they do.

Guess what, runners? Fifteen minutes of a good ol' rump in the hay burns way more calories than an hour of running, so suck it. Yeah, I'm talking to you, Walker. You big prude. She never wants to make out with me after missions, which is a total drag.

I'm not really a sex addict, though. It's not like I'll do any guy I see, and it's not like I'm walking around with syphilis. I'm a girl with standards. Here's what I do. I see someone I want, male or female, doesn't matter, really. Then, I take what I want.

So right now, I'm sitting here, on a shitty motel bed, next to some nerd, who is surprisingly ripped (not in the gross, _rawr, I'm going to eat you_, way either) and he's telling me about some organization with a really stupid name that's hell-bent on causing a global economic collapse. People are stupid. Seriously.

But where was I? Oh, right. Chucky. I didn't really notice it before, but this kid is pretty hot. Look at him, sitting there in his white t-shirt, his brows furrowing together while he looks down at the ridiculous black and green laptop with unnecessary lights all over it. I see his mouth moving, but I can't hear a word that he says. I think he's talking about the mission tomorrow. Technically, it's later tonight, but it's one o'clock in the morning, so whatever. The important thing is, he's kind of turning me on.

I look down at my outfit. It's nothing special. Just a purple tank top and black boy-shorts, but it will do for now. I lean closer to Chuck, and let the strap slip off my shoulder. Even though my face is an inch away from his, he doesn't notice. He's still too busy staring at the laptop and talking to himself. Does he really think that I'm listening?

Come on, Carina, be realistic here. Chuck won't give you the old in and out. He's one of those guys with that thing called a conscience. I can see it now: I make a move, Bartowski screams like a girl, and starts babbling about how Bryce is his "_bro_" and how he wants Walker.

There's also the fact that Walker will _murder_ me if Chuck and I screw. I'll never say this out loud, but compared to Walker, my fighting skills are shit.

"What do you think I should do?" Chuck asks, looking up at me with a concerned expression.

"What?"

"About the mission tomorrow—I honestly can't think of any way I can get into the basement without getting detected." He huffs out a breath, and rests his chin on his hand with a look of determination.

That's cute. He's so focused. "You're positive that Fulcrum's HQ is at the Prewitt building?"

"Yep."

I nod. "Right. So there's this fat guy named Bernie Ominsky, and he's on top of our wanted list for Fulcrum operatives. He's fat."

Chuck stares at me with a blank expression. At least, I'm sure that he thinks it's a blank expression, but his eyes say it all: "What does Bernie being fat have to do with anything?"

"You know how there are a bunch of restaurants that are known for having those competitions where people eat ten pound hamburgers?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"Well, Bernie holds the most titles. The man eats like there's no tomorrow."

Chuck raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Good for him, but why does that matter?"

What is this—twenty questions? I try hard not to roll my eyes. "There's this Mexican restaurant in downtown Richmond called Taco Don Juan. They're famous for having seven pound breakfast burritos. I can tell Graham that we went there for breakfast, and that I saw Bernie. I'll say that I tailed him, saw him go into the Prewitt building, and yeah."

"You think Graham will buy that?" He sounds doubtful.

"He'll buy it," I say. Yes, Graham and I have a history. A very brief history, but a history all the same.

I begin to tell him that I can organize a tactical team, and I tell him that I have an office in Richmond for whenever I'm waiting for a new mission. I hate that office. It's boring, and it makes me feel all cooped up and trapped.

"I'll tell Graham that you'll be safe in my office, and if you give me your costume—"

"It's body armor."

"I'll keep it hidden in my office. There's an escape hatch in the corner that I'll unlock for you and it'll lead you outside," I finish, ignoring Chuck's interruption.

"Is your office building in walking distance of Fulcrum's base?"

"I'll leave you a harness outside. Just strap yourself to the bottom of our van, and you'll be fine," I say, adding in an undertone, "as long as we don't go over fifty."

Chuck doesn't hear me. "Okay, so I go with you guys, but what happens if Bernie isn't there? I mean, I don't want you to get in trouble, you know? It's bad enough that you can get hurt when you go in there with all those Fulcrum guards." He's looking at me with concern in his eyes, and I realize that this is the first time that any guy has worried about me. Bryce never did that. He was always confident that he could get me out of any pickle. And he did, but this is different. Chuck is actually concerned for my wellbeing. His eyes light up. "Oh! I can make you a copy of the data! That way, if Bernie isn't there, at least you'll have something that the CIA can use."

He smiles at me, and wiggles his eyebrows slightly, looking proud. Sweet Jesus, he's cute. Whoa, Hansen, you just described Chucky as being cute twice in the last five minutes. What the hell is wrong with you?

I shake my head, and I look away from the nerd. I'm Carina "Nipple Biter" Hansen, damn it! I don't do nerds.

"Yeah, you should do that," I say, looking down at his open suitcase and his tranq pistols. I point to them. "You're going to have to take real guns with you."

"What—why?" he asks, frowning.

"Damn it, Chuck," I say with a groan. I don't care if he's hot, if he "what—why's" me one more time, I'm going to bite his other nipple. "Just think about it for a minute. You ask too many questions when you can answer them for yourself. It's annoying."

For a second, he gives me a hurt expression, and then his eyebrows burrow together. He looks at his tranq pistols, and then back to me. I can see the cogs working in his head as he puts the pieces together. "Because your team's going to be carrying real guns," he says.

I grin. "There you go," I say, patting his shoulder. "So yeah, I'll leave you a couple pistols—you like Sigs? I'll leave you two of those and some extra magazines."

"Yeah, about that," he says, and his unease is written all over his face. "I don't really do the whole killing people thing. I'm not kosher with that."

"Don't be such a pussy, Chucky," I say, realizing too late how harsh it sounds. I drop my voice back to its normal tone. "People die all the time." I pause for a second. "Just then? Hundreds of people just died."

"There's a difference between dying and killing, Carina," he retorts. "I'm not going to carry any guns."

Damn, this boy's stubborn. But as I open my mouth to argue, I see something in him that I rarely see from other people. There's innocence behind his warm, brown eyes. Most people in this world lose that innocent sparkle when they're kids, but Chuck still has it. And I realize, in this moment, what Walker sees in him other than his hotness.

"Take your tranqs," I tell him. "There are going to be guards waiting for you down on the basement floor. Try to lead them up the flight of stairs, and tranq them there. I'll take care of them." Chuck opens his mouth, but I hold a hand up to stop him. "I won't kill them. I'll wait for you above—probably on the fifth floor, maybe higher—and I'll toss a grenade down. I'll hold it long enough so that it will detonate before it reaches the basement. It'll look like the force of the blast and rubble knocked those guards out."

Chuck grins gratefully, and puts a hand on my bare shoulder. I want to shrug it off, but I let it rest there.

"And since there are most likely going to be guards watching the database," I continue, "Just tranq them too. I'll tell my team that I'm going to check out the basement first, and I'll tell them that I left those guards alive for interrogation. You said you had twilight tranqs, right?"

"Jill modified them a bit, so that the victim will be unconscious for about an hour."

"That's good. Yeah…this can work." I say it more to myself than Chuck. It _will_ work.

"Cool," he says, still grinning. I'm glad that he doesn't express his doubt, if he has any, about me being able to take on a group of guards. Instead, he gives my shoulder a squeeze. "Apart from you biting my nipple, I'm glad you're here."

"Yeah?" I ask, unable to stop a smile from forming.

"Definitely," he replies. "I'd say we had a very productive day. You joined my team, which is a _huge_ relief, because I didn't know how much longer I'd be able to evade you guys; especially after Wally. Then we had a kind of depressing chat about Bryce." He nods to himself, and bumps his shoulder into mine. "I can see us becoming pretty good friends."

Friends…

For some reason my heart sinks (I didn't even know that it could do that) at the word. It sinks deeper when I think about Bryce. He's a good guy, he really is, but he's always been cocky, and selfish. He probably thinks that he was being selfless by not letting me quit so that he could attempt to kill himself, but that kind of hurts. It's like, what, me being there for him isn't good enough?

And Chuck…he's this billionaire who's hot, down to earth, and charming. One of the things I like most about him is that he's confident but not cocky. Guys like Chuck are rare. He's a genuinely nice guy, and he doesn't expect to get anything in return. The guys I meet on missions are nice, but they're obviously only nice to me because they want in my pants.

On top of everything that Chuck is, he also runs around in a mask and can kick some serious ass. The way he handled me earlier? My God…that was…wow!

Wait—why the hell am I even thinking about this?

"You said you were hungry, right?" Chuck asks. "Want me to get you anything from the vending machines?"

My stomach speaks for me, grumbling softly in reply. I look up at him. "Does that answer your question for you?"

He chuckles, and gets off the bed. "So what do you want?"

"What do they have?"

"I don't know," he says, shrugging. "Want to come take a look with me?"

"Yeah, sure." I get off the bed, and begin to make my way out the door, but Chuck grabs my wrist.

"Wait a sec." I look around to see him hunching over his suitcase. When he straightens up, he's holding a black suit jacket, and he tosses it to me. "I don't want you to catch a cold," he says, eyeing my outfit.

"Chucky, it's fine," I say, trying to shove the jacket back into his hand.

He frowns. "It's chilly out," he insists, taking the jacket, and wrapping it around my shoulders. "Come on. Let's get some eats."

Without another word, Chuck walks over to the door, pulls it open, and steps outside. He's right, I think to myself as I follow him. It is chilly out.

* * *

**A/N:** Hmm...I guess now would be a good time to tell you that **Roads** is a Charina story.

Totally kidding! Or am I...? *cue ominous music*

Oh, and I think a lot of people are thinking that the next chapter of **Roads** is going to be angsty. Well, I'll let you be the judge. Here's a little snippet:

_"It's been a long morning," she said, holding out her hand. "Walk around the track with me?"_

_After pretending to ponder, Chuck shrugged and took her hand. "I guess I can do that." He took her hand. In a deep, dramatic, British accent, he said, "Let us embark on a dangerous journey around the mystical air track. Who knows what dangers we may face?"_

_"Nobody does." Sarah played along, imitating Chuck's accent. "We may come across track trolls, and track goblins…or the evil ogre who goes by the name of Casey," she added when they walked past the weight room, pointing to Casey while he was doing a set of squats._

Yeah, it's going to be a total angst-fest, chapter 8. :) Thank you guys for reading!

I forgot! Pretty sure Chapter 8 will be posted on Sunday! It's in the process of being beta'ed right now


	2. Misinterpretations

**A/N**: Thanks goes out, as always, to you, the readers and to **mxpw** for the beta. You have to remember that this story is set in 2007, and Wii's were new back then. Also, even if this story is set in 2010, I'm pretty sure Carina wouldn't know what a Wii is. As for when this takes place in **Roads**, it takes place while Jill and Carina go to her office so that Carina can get fitted for her body armor.

* * *

The other night, I had this dream. It's strange that I remember it, because I rarely remember my dreams. Would it be safe to assume that they're sex dreams? Probably. But this dream wasn't a sex dream, even though Chuck was involved. Walker was also there too. You'd think that I would have had this incredible dream that involved the three of us doing something that included a bucket of ice, but that didn't happen. Instead, I was the god damn third wheel on their date. Can you believe that?

It was really unsettling, sitting at the dream restaurant between the nerd and the blonde, watching them flirting awkwardly like they always did, and not making out with either of them! Oh, and I was naked in that dream, and Chucky didn't even give me a second glance. I was really depressed when I woke up this morning. And I was still depressed while drinking my morning coffee. Hell, I'm still depressed now that I'm even letting it bother me. Chucky wants Walker, and not only in the sexy way.

There's no other way to put this. It sucks. I don't know what exactly Chuck sees in Walker. Yes, she's hot. Some days, she's hotter than me (I'll always have the hotter ass, though). However, he isn't the kind of guy that's _only_ interested in how good a woman looks. If that was the case, he would have banged me and Walker by now. Chuck sees something in Walker that I don't see. That in itself upsets me. What does she have that I don't?

I could always kill Walker and make it look like an accident. What the hell am I thinking? Come on, Hansen, Walker's your partner. She's also your friend, and she's been there for you in more ways than you can count. Chicks before dicks…even though seeing Chuck's—

"Hold out your arms, please."

The short brunette's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. It's probably for the best. I extend my arms out in front of me to let the brunette measure them. I look around her office and notice that it's not like an office at all. It's different from the other rooms that I've seen in the base so far. While the other rooms were, for lack of a better word, boring, with the dull, grey walls, the brunette's office is more like a room somebody lives in. It's filled with pictures, books, a flat screen TV, and a bed.

"Do you live here?" I ask.

She steps over to her desk and scribbles something in her notebook. "Yeah. Ever since your partner made me as Fulcrum, I've been living here."

"Sounds like fun," I deadpan, still gazing around her office. My eyes stop when I see a picture of Chuck and the brunette. The girl's arms are wrapped around Chuck, and she looks like she's on Cloud Nine. Chuck, however, just looks content. "Your name is Jill, right?"

She nods, but doesn't look up from her notepad. "We were formally introduced about an hour ago."

"Yeah, I'm terrible with names." That's not really true. On the contrary, I'm pretty good with names. But at the time of meeting Jill, I was distracted by the base outside. When all this Omega crap is done with, I could turn it into Madame Carina's Dungeon. Most likely, I could make a pretty penny or two what with all of the crazy in Los Angeles. "You're Chuck's ex?" I look at the photograph again, and it's clear that Jill's not over Chuck.

"That would be me," says Jill, stepping back in front of me. She places the measuring tape just below my throat. "Can you hold that for me and take your shoes off, please?"

I kick off my heels and hold the measuring tape in place while Jill straightens it out. If, at this moment, I was Walker, I'd be gloating like crazy, knowing that there were probably hundreds of women, myself included, that have it bad for Chuck. She has no idea how lucky she is. That bitch.

"So was Chucky good in bed?"

Jill begins to cough. "Excuse me?" I don't get people and their freaking out every time I ask them a sex question. We're all adults here. We should be able to handle it. But doe-eyed Jill over here is looking like I just asked her a scandalous question.

"It's a simple yes or no question."

"I just don't…I just don't feel—think that this is appropriate," she sputters, blushing a deep shade of red.

"I bet Chucky's more of a giver than a taker," I say, watching Jill's face for confirmation. The look of realization on her face confirms everything I need to know. Chuck is indeed a giver. "Lucky girl," I say musingly.

Instead of sputtering or blushing again, Jill laughs spitefully. "I _was_ a lucky girl." She glances at the measuring tape and takes it from me.

As hard as it is, I manage to push the images of Chuck doing miraculous things to Jill away. "He's that good, eh?"

"He's a good guy." Obviously, she misunderstood the question. I already know that Chuck's a good guy. "But things didn't work out with us. Well, that's what he thought, anyway."

For some reason, I always thought that it was Jill that broke things off with Chuck. Now that I think about it, it makes sense that he broke up with her. The thing I learned about Chuck is that people seem to underestimate him. I was certainly guilty of it when I wrestled him in my underwear in Virginia. And Jill, well, she doesn't seem like a girl that would take Chuck for granted. She's smart, and smart girls wouldn't break things off with a guy like him. I narrow my eyes a bit, and I study her. She's also kind of hot in a sexy scientist kind of way.

"Why didn't they work out?" I ask. It's surprising to even me that I care. In high school, I was the girl that laughed whenever girls cried over breakups. I just didn't care. But for some reason, stupid Chuck, I'm actually interested in hearing Jill's story.

She shrugs. "He said that we were too similar. In other words, I bored him."

"You should have given him the Chinese Finger Trap."

"The what now?" she asks, frowning.

"It's this thing that you do to a guy while you're…you know what? It's a little hard to explain." Training and a lot of practice are also necessary in order to pull that one off. It's not one of those things that you can perfect in one night.

"Yeah, well, he had a point, I guess," she continues, sitting down and gesturing for me to sit on a chair across from hers. "We fell into this routine where we did the same stuff. I was happy with it, but obviously, he wasn't."

Poor girl, I think to myself.

"Anyway, I was pretty butt hurt after he broke up with me. I like to think that I've put it all behind me."

I frown. Chuck doesn't seem like he's the backdoor mailman type. If he is, then it's really rude of him to break up with a girl after she agrees to let him put it in—oh! Butt hurt as in she was _upset_! I get it now. Jill really needs to watch how she phrases things. The girl's just asking for trouble. "Want me to kiss it better?"

"What?"

"Never mind." I smile at her and wink before I start glancing around her desk. I take another look at the picture of her and Chuck. And now that I'm taking a better look at it, I actually feel bad for Jill. I know that the chances of me actually getting with Chuck are pretty much non-existent as long as Walker is around, but at least I can use Bryce's body for comfort. Sure, he's limited in what he can do, but I'm creative in the bedroom, the kitchen, the closet, and I'm pretty sure I could come up with some fun stuff for us to do in that dungeon outside. But Jill has nothing except for that white piece she has by the picture frame.

Poor Jill…she misses Chuck so much that she keeps a freaking dildo next to a picture of him. She should be more discrete about where she keeps her toys. I frown and reach over for it. As I hold it in my hand, I realize that this thing is complicated. There's a bunch of buttons on it, and it's connected to a battery pack with a tiny swivel stick. Is it something that directs the massager? I push the button that says "START" and the thing begins to vibrate.

"Whoa, where did you get this?" I ask. I kind of want one of these. I've never seen anything like it before.

"I got it at the Buy More," she says, giving me a strange look.

I push another button with a plus sign, but nothing happens. "How do you make it vibrate faster?"

"What?"

"I'm assuming this plus sign here makes it more intense, yeah?"

After giving me another look of confusion, Jill begins to laugh and takes it away from me. "This isn't what you think it is," she says, still laughing and brushing a tear from her eye. "It's a Wii remote."

A wee remote? So does it control some weird robotic sex toy? Maybe I won't need Bryce after all.

"It's a videogame controller. Here…" she reaches over for another remote and turns on the TV. I see some chubby cartoon character with a red hat and a mustache running around the screen while Jill moves the remote around.

My face falls. It's for some stupid videogame? Well, that's just dumb. It would have been really cool if it controlled some robot pleasure machine. Lord knows that I really need one of those bad boys right now.

Jill's laughing slows down, and she takes a deep breath. "Oh…that is too funny," she says to herself. "Anyway, I should finish taking the rest of your measurements."

I roll my eyes and get off the chair. "What more do you need to measure?"

Before she replies, she pulls her hair back into a ponytail. "The suit needs to be skintight, so…"

"You need me to take my clothes off?" I ask, unbuttoning my blouse before she can reply. It's pretty chilly in the room, but the blouse is new. It is pretty itchy.

"Well, you could just—you're not wearing any underwear." Her eyes quickly snap to the wall.

I shrug as I kick my skirt away. "Sometimes it's nice to let it breathe some fresh air every once in awhile, you know?"

Jill continues to stare determinedly at the wall. The world is filled with too many prudes. If God wanted us to wear clothes, then we would have been born in Onesies.

"You're kind of hurting my feelings," I say, pretending to pout. "Is my body so terrible that you can't bear to look at it?"

"No!" she cries in a high-pitched voice. She quickly clears her throat and finally turns to look at me. "I just wasn't expecting…_that_." She outstretches her arms in my direction. It's funny. The way that Jill is acting, it reminds me of Chuck. Her gestures, and the way her face is turning bright red, Chuck would react the same way if he were in this position.

I shrug. While it feels nice to get out of that itchy blouse, it's still cold in here. "Well, as you can probably tell, it's a bit chilly in here." I look down pointedly at my breasts.

"Oh! Right!" Jill approaches me with her measuring tape. "I'll just make this quick then."

I know I could make a dirty joke here, but I don't bring myself to say anything. Instead, I let Jill take measurements around my body in silence. She's pretty good with her hands.

* * *

**A/N**: I wish I could tell you when the next chapter of **Roads** will be posted, but it won't be for awhile. I've been having writer's block for the last week, and I was only able to write this chapter while I was cracked out on coffee and spring rolls. I do have some of the next chapter of **Roads** written out though. I can also promise that it'll be the longest chapter I've written so far, seeing as I've got over 6000 words, and I'm only a 1/3 of the way finished. Thanks again for reading! Oh! I have a Twitter now! If you want to follow me, it's **Tallyto22**.


	3. History of the Nympho

**A/N:** Ah, yes…another helping of Nympho! This one's not as funny as the others, but Chapter 10 of Roads (if you haven't read that, I suggest you read it first before you continue) wasn't a very happy chapter for Carina. I actually do feel quite terrible for her. But anyway, I think this is a pretty important chapter for Carina. Thank you for reading, and as always, reviews are greatly appreciated!

**ETA:** OH, GOSH! I forgot to thank **mxpw **for the beta! I'm a terrible person. But he's super awesome! Ah! I feel so bad, now.

* * *

I don't look at him when he thanks me for tonight. What was I going to do, let Omega take him? I don't look at him when he says goodnight either. It's too hard. A part of me wishes that Walker really was Omega, but that's only because I'm selfish. It's always been a problem of mine. Still, I can't help but wonder what would have happened if Walker was Omega. Chuck would be pretty butt-hurt about it, that's for sure. But after that, then maybe...

Fuck it. What's done is done.

Even if it sounds contradictory, I can honestly say that I was relieved when I found out that Walker really wasn't Omega. Well, she was, but not really. Hell, if Omega had gotten to me and threatened Chuck's, Bryce's, or even Sarah's life, I would have done the same thing.

The minutes went by. I don't know how long I sat down in the Den, still in my Eisley suit, when Jill walks out of her room/office. She's in a white shirt with Stanford written in red, and she's wearing a baggy pair of sweats with her hair tied back in a ponytail. She doesn't notice me while she pours water from a bottle into a mug and puts it in the microwave.

"Can't sleep?" she asks, not taking her eyes off the microwave.

I jump a little in surprise. "Didn't think you noticed me."

Jill does this thing where she frowns yet smiles at the same time. "You're kind of hard to miss."

If this had happened yesterday, I would have immediately thought that Jill was hitting on me. But it's not yesterday, so I shrug. The microwave beeps, and Jill takes out her mug and puts in a teabag. She walks over to where I'm sitting and gestures to the empty chair beside me. I nod, letting her know that she could sit down.

We sit in silence. From time to time, Jill dips her teabag and wiggles the mug around. I pick at my armor. "How long did it take you to figure out how to make these?"

"Two years," she replied. "I think I could be richer than Chuck if I sold the plans to the government."

I laugh dryly. "Girl, your life sucks." It really does suck. Poor girl can barely leave the house, she figured out a way to make liquid armor work, and she doesn't get recognition or money for any of it. What a life.

Jill shrugs. "I like to think that something good will happen to me eventually."

"You Buddhist or something?"

"Or something," she replies with a chuckle. She sips her tea, and looks up. "Oh, I should have asked if you wanted some."

I shake my head. "It's all good."

Again, there's a lull. It's not terribly uncomfortable, but it's not comfortable either. I pick my mask up from the desk behind me and study it. It's nothing special, really, on the outside—just a plain, black mask that covers half of my face. But on the inside, there are two lenses for night vision and sonar and a bunch of computer chip looking thingies.

"Can I ask you something?" asks Jill.

"Shoot."

"How bad do you hate Sarah Walker right now?" She finishes with an awkward chuckle.

"I don't hate her," I reply honestly.

"Really?" Jill sounds skeptical. "I've heard stuff from Bryce and Chuck about how you guys—"

"Me and Walker have been like this for years," I interrupt. I know how things look from the outside. It probably looks like Sarah and I hate each other. "There was a time when I considered her my best friend. But shit happened…"

I was twenty-one. Walker was twenty. We were the only two women in our year of recruits. The rest were a bunch of cocky guys, who immediately passed us off as eye-candy. Well, they passed me off as eye-candy. I always took the time to look decent. Walker, on the other hand, she didn't give a crap about how she looked unless we were told to look our best.

We both had a lot to prove. I didn't want to be conceived as just eye-candy. I don't think Walker wanted to be known as "That blonde who could be really hot if she wanted to—but you'd tap that anyway—I know I would." So we kicked ass. If the instructors wanted us to run some crazy obstacle course in less than ten minutes, we would finish in five. We beat all of the guys at everything. Eventually, we started to compete against each other. If I finished something in five minutes, two seconds, Walker would beat me by finishing it at five minutes, one second.

It was a friendly competition. Walker made training fun for me. There were times when things got tough for the both of us. We held each other up. I think that it was around then when I realized that Walker was the first real friend that I've ever had. Yeah, I had a lot of friends in high school, but to me, they were disposable. I went through friends like they were junk mail.

Maybe I did that because I was afraid to let people get close to me. That's probably the reason why I joined the CIA in the first place. You're constantly on the road, you meet people, and you either arrest them or kill them before they get to know you.

But I let Walker in. She was a cool kid. Even if we had to go through hell the next day, Walker and I would give all the other guys hell at night. She approached things differently from me. While I would get a guy into bed, seduce him a bit, then handcuff him to the rails, and pour itching powder down their pants, Walker would do more kiddy crap like put plastic wrap over the toilets so that the guys couldn't see before they dropped a deuce.

Those were some good times. Conspiring with Walker, and figuring out ways to mess with the other guys.

A couple of years later, we completed our training. Our first mission was to stop a shipment of plutonium to North Korea. The first night was only supposed to be recon. The plan went like this: we were to board a commercial cruise ship in Washington State. When we got to a certain bearing, we were supposed to sneak off the ship. We had one of those little inflatable rafts with a shitty engine. We were told that the shipping boat would be around three miles away from where we were. Then, we were supposed to get on the boat, confirm that the plutonium was there, and report back.

I decided to have a little fun. We found the plutonium. While Walker was getting her camera out of her bag to take pictures, I thought, well, shit. There's only about ten kilos, might as well just take it now.

So that's what I did. I grabbed the huge metallic case by the handles. Walker gave me a scandalized look like I just flashed the President or something. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Improvising."

I lifted the case. It was heavier than I expected. All of a sudden, the room started flashing red. Alarms went off. Like kids stealing candy, Walker grabbed the other handle, and we ran like hell up to the deck. Then, a rain of gunfire sounded. The bullets barely missed us while we ran. We didn't even bother to climb down the boat; we just jumped. The water was freezing while we simultaneously swam and drug the case of plutonium to our raft.

The guys on the boat shot our raft, and Walker just shoved her fingers in the holes while I tried to push the shitty engine to go faster. By the time we got to our ship, our raft was deflated, we were wet, and we were cold as hell. The whole time, Walker was giving me the dirtiest look that I ever saw. But when we climbed back up to the ship, she just fell on the deck, laughing her ass off.

"That was _insane_!" she cried, in between her laughter.

Later, when we dried off, I suggested that we go to the bars below deck. But Walker was all sorts of paranoid, and she refused to go. I went anyway. I met some girl—it doesn't matter what her name was—and we went at it. That's probably where I got my habit of sleeping with people after a successful mission. But I remember, while the girl and I were going at it, just bursting in laughter at the thought of Walker sitting on top of the case of plutonium with a gun in her hand.

After all that, she and I started to really get to know each other. She told me about her life as a con-girl when she was in her teens. I told her about how when I was a teenager, I realized that I started getting into girls after I found out that the kids from that band Hanson were guys. Apart from the occasional solo missions, Walker and I always spent time together.

Things weren't always good, though. I remember our red tests. God, to take a life…it was something that I always knew was expected from me, but when that time came, it was something else. We took our red tests at the same time. Walker went to France, I went to Italy. Five hours later, we were both crying in each other's arms like a pair of kids listening to their parents fighting at night. Something inside both of us died that night, but we never talked about it. We pretended like it never happened. On missions, however, neither of us ever hesitated to shoot first if we needed to. Maybe that was the whole point of those red tests. To kill that thing you didn't really know that existed inside of you, and made you apathetic about taking lives. I don't know.

That night was the first time I ever let anyone see me cry, or see me in a vulnerable state.

Eventually, Walker and I went on even more solo missions. It surprised me that, whenever we got back, I was happy to see her. A lot of people thought that Bryce was the first person that I've ever had feelings for, and I've told them that Bryce was first person that I've ever had feelings for. The fact of the matter was that I had feelings for Walker first.

Surprising? Not really. I'm just a wounded puppy that falls in love with the first person that shows me any sign that they care. Look at what happened with Chucky. The guy actually cared about my wellbeing. The same went with Sarah.

The night that everything changed for us happened after a mission in Moscow almost two years ago. We were celebrating, like we always did, with vodka. Lots of vodka. Walker was always a touchy person around people that she was comfortable with. Whenever I saw her with Chuck, she was always picking invisible lint off his clothes, or had her arm wrapped around his. With me, she would get pretty touchy whenever we drank. Even with the slightest buzz, Walker would always put her hand on my shoulder and laugh whenever I made a joke.

Anyway, so that night, we got pretty drunk. It was after a mission, and all I knew was that there was no man or woman in that bar that I wanted more than Walker. She was gorgeous! She had on this short, blue dress, and God! I just wanted to cook that girl breakfast! So when we got bored, we went to our hotel rooms. Because I didn't get my usual post-mission plow, and because I was pretty wasted, I walked over to Walker's room. I slid under the covers with her. It wasn't anything unusual. We had sleepovers before during our off time. But that night, I remember brushing her hair aside, and she was looking at me. I couldn't tell if she was confused or excited, but I made my move. When my face was less than an inch away from hers, Walker just started to laugh.

I played it off as a joke, but _fuck_…it stung. Walker wouldn't stop laughing, and I just felt my mind snap.

Months before, though, Walker and I met Bryce. The three of us all teamed up for a mission, and I could tell that she liked him. After the mission was complete, she straight up told me about how she wanted to get to know him better, maybe ask him out on a date.

So the day after Walker blew me off, I called Bryce with one of the worst hangovers ever. I told him that we should get together sometime. And we did. I took pictures of Bryce and me going at it, and I sent them to Walker.

It was petty. I know that now. But even though she tried to shrug it off, I knew it bothered her. Ever since then, we stopped spending a lot of time together. We only saw each other for missions. We still worked great together, but yeah…

"…so that's what happened," I finish as I toss my mask behind me on the desk.

Jill gives me a sad look. "That really…_blows_."

"I guess I got what I deserved," I say. "But even if I told Walker that I…had feelings, or whatever, for her, I don't think she plays both sides of the field, you know?"

"Yeah."

"And Chuck's in love with her, anyway, so I never stood a chance with him either."

Jill laughs. "Welcome to the club."

I look at her. "I guess it's hard to compete with a girl that he's known for his entire life."

"For sure."

I sigh and stand up. "Oh, well. I'm sure that when everything is over, we'll find someone awesome for ourselves. And you can make a pretty penny, or two, with this." I tug at my armor.

She grins. "Definitely. Well, good night, Carina."

"Night, Jill." I strip away my armor while I walk down the Den to pick up my clothes from before the mission. I hear a clang, and I turn to see that Jill had accidentally knocked over her mug.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading! I hope everyone has a great New Year!


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